because I prayed this word: I want
by thewrinkleintime
Summary: What Stiles knows is best and what he does are usually two different things.


"you came and I was crazy for you

and you cooled my mind that burned with longing"

Sappho (fr. 48)

* * *

Stiles is tired of the monotony of life, tired of the numbness that has lately been permeating his entire being. He's tired of not feeling anything other than tired. He's tried all sorts of things to feel more, even had a brief dabble with illicit substances, but it's Derek that really works. Derek makes him feel, makes him feel angry and turned on and everything in between. Derek makes him feel alive.

* * *

Stiles knows this is dangerous, knows he should stay as far away as possible. This is probably going to end badly, which is why he shouldn't be doing it. He should be at home doing his chem homework, but instead Stiles is being pressed into the mattress as Derek pounds into him relentlessly.

Stiles feels like he's flying apart. Every nerve ending is burning, every place where he and Derek are touching is alight. His arms ache with the weight of his body and he falls forward onto his forearms, resting his face on the sweat-soaked sheet. He is alive.

* * *

Stiles thinks he has everything under control, that his feelings for Derek are purely of the fuck-buddy variety. But then Derek leaves without explanation, and it opens something in Stiles that he didn't know was there. Stiles feels Derek's absence like a wound, a wound that exposes the internal mess of feelings that seemed to have come from nowhere.

He doesn't quite know how to deal with it.

* * *

Stiles sleeps with Danny, once. It's all going good until Stiles realizes he'd much rather be with Derek, and then it's stilted and distant. It turns out you can't fuck away your feelings, as Danny had eloquently put it. Danny proves to be a good listener though, and he lets Stiles talk. Stiles thinks that this was what was missing with Derek: the words. Derek and Stiles were all movement-shirt tugging and hip gripping-not sound. To say they lacked effective communication would be an understatement.

* * *

Stiles starts writing letters to Derek. He doesn't mail them-he has no address. But it's cathartic, it's liberating, to put his feelings down on paper. The time he spent with Derek is fuzzy, like a blurry photograph, there but not defined. Writing to Derek helps make their past more real, helps Stiles think through everything. He comes to the conclusion that while he doesn't love Derek, there is a high chance that given the opportunity, he could.

* * *

By the time Derek returns, Stiles' eighteenth birthday has come and gone. He's applied to colleges and been accepted to several. He's thinking about his future, and it doesn't include Derek. That is until Derek shows up suddenly, acting as if he never left.

Stiles ignores him.

The day Stiles leaves for college he makes one last stop at Derek's place. He sets the bundle of letters on the doorstep and is already driving away by the time Derek opens the door. Stiles isn't sure if what he's just done is the right thing, or if it will only complicate matters even more. But it is Stiles' way of seeking closure, and it felt like something he had to do.

* * *

Stiles meets Kelly his second year of college. She's funny and smart and they have a good time together, but Stiles constantly finds himself watching what he says. So much of his high school experience he has to gloss over, skipping the bits about werewolves and kanimas and all the other creatures they had run ins with.

Kelly puts an end to things that May.

"I feel like you've never really with me. Like you'd rather be elsewhere."

Maybe Kelly is right, maybe Stiles does want to be somewhere else, with someone else. He silently curses his feelings for Derek, still managing to mess things up even after several years apart.

Stiles doesn't date after that. He has a couple one night stands, but nothing serious.

* * *

Stiles comes home after graduation. He's not sure what he wants to do next, so he gets a job at the bookstore and finds an apartment nearby while he contemplates his future. He's settling in, adjusting to working full-time, and for the most part he's content.

Then Derek walks into the bookstore one day and it all comes crumbling down.

* * *

"Derek."

"Stiles."

There's a long moment of silence.

"Can I help you with something?" Stiles asks. He's organizing a display of new arrivals and isn't entirely pleased with the interruption.

"I wanted to see you."

"Well, now you've seen me."

"Can we talk? Not now, but maybe later, over coffee? It's been a while."

"Come back at 5 and we can go someplace," Stiles says, partly to get Derek to leave, but partly because he's curious as to what Derek would have to say after 4 years.

* * *

"Thanks for agreeing to talk," Derek says, as they find a quiet corner to sit at the coffee shop.

"No problem." Stiles tone is light, but he's exuding a whole jumble of complicated emotions.

Derek doesn't hesitate, just jumps right in.

"I'm sorry, Stiles, for leaving back then. I know I'm years late with the apology, but I am sorry. I was trying to keep everyone safe, and I know that's not an excuse for not telling you before I left, but I thought I was protecting you."

Stiles thinks about this while he sips his coffee.

"Okay. I accept your apology."

"You do?" Derek looks confused.

"You had your reasons, and while I might not have agreed with them, I know you did what you thought was best. I can't fault you for that."

"Thanks." Derek looks relieved, like he thought that Stiles might still be mad at him.

"So what do you want, Derek?"

"I want..."

Stiles waits for him to elaborate.

"I want to get to know you again, to know this you. I want to be friends, if that's okay."

"How do I know you don't have any ulterior motives?"

"I guess you're going to have to trust me. And I know I haven't given you much reason to in the past, but we're both different people. You're not 17 anymore. And I like to think I've matured as well."

"Okay."

"Yeah?" Derek asks.

"Yeah, let's give it a shot."

Derek smiles, the first smile Stiles has seen from him in who knows how long, and gosh if it doesn't light the whole place up.

* * *

Stiles intends to keep his newly renewed relationship with Derek strictly at the friendly level, but he doesn't anticipate old feelings still being present. Seeing Derek again has brought everything back, and it's a little overwhelming.

A few weeks later, after hanging out several times and marathoning Marvel movies one Saturday, Derek suggests they go to the art gallery for a showing. Stiles is surprised, but agrees to go when Derek mentions he has a piece in it.

Stiles is glad Derek's found something to do besides brooding in corners and terrorizing innocent civilians. Stiles is telling Derek this when he turns to look at the piece in front of him and realizes it's him. Derek painted him. The painting shows Stiles' laughing with his whole body, head thrown back and everything. It's beautiful.

"It's beautiful."

Derek blushes and looks away.

"No, seriously, it's gorgeous. And not just because it's me," Stiles says, grinning.

"You really think so?"

"Yes," Stiles insists.

* * *

They're outside the art gallery, standing on the sidewalk, when Stiles decides something.

"I want to kiss you," he says to Derek.

"Okay, so kiss me."

It's short, almost chaste, until Derek bites softly at Stiles' bottom lip and then it turns deep and definitely inappropriate for the setting.

Stiles breaks away, breathing heavily and resting his forehead against Derek's.

"We should probably take this slow," he says.

"Yes, we should."

They both grin.

"But that's not our style, is it?" Stiles asks.

They end up in Stiles' bed and spend the night relearning each other's bodies, feeling how they've changed and remembering how the other likes to be touched. It's different though, then the sex they used to have. It's gentler, for one. Less rushed. It's also more open, neither hiding his emotions beneath hard thrusts and muffled groans.

Afterwards Derek gets out a sketchbook. Stiles stretches out, completely nude and still flushed. Derek looks at him for several minutes, studying the planes of his body and the way the light makes him glow softly, before starting to draw.

When they were together before, Stiles felt like Derek never really saw him, was always looking through him. Stiles thinks that Derek sees him now, his whole being, darkness and light.

Derek shows Stiles the drawing after, and it's stunning. Stiles tells him so, and they fall back into bed, lazily touching and kissing.

* * *

_6 months later_

"Dude, how do you have so much stuff?" Stiles asks, hefting a box up the narrow stairs. They've decided to move close to Stanford, so Stiles can work on his masters, and it's been a hectic week as they move into their new place.

Stiles swore there weren't this many boxes when they packed.

He sets down the box in their kitchen, sighing as the flaps spring open. He goes to shut it again, pausing when he sees a familiar bundle.

"You kept my letters?" Stiles asks, incredulous.

Derek walks closer. "Letters?" He looks at the bunch of papers in Stiles' hands. "Oh, those letters. Of course I kept them."

"God, they're probably really embarrassing."

"I used to read them while you were away at college. It was a poor substitute for your company, but it was all I had."

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek's middle, pulling him close. "Now you have me."

"Now I have you."

* * *

They have each other in ways they never did when Stiles was in high school. Back then their relationship wasn't very healthy, all sex and no conversation, no discussion of needs and wants. But now they know each other, they've argued and laughed and watched The Avengers 3 times in a row. They've eaten ice cream from the tub, gone for early morning hikes, and shared parts of themselves they had previously hidden away. They have each other, fully and entirely. And this time neither one is letting go.


End file.
